


At Fault

by Book_Wyrm



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Odin's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_Wyrm/pseuds/Book_Wyrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone’s favorite siblings end up in a jail on Midgard. Getting out is relatively easy. Dealing with the consequences once they get home is less so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this amazing prompt, given to me by the equally amazing Thorki-Smut on tumblr: pre-movies, kid!Thor and kid!Loki get into troubles on Earth, and wind up in jail. After being treated like street thugs, Loki devises a plan to escape (or uses magic, whichever or) and sneak back to Asgard. Somehow Odin knows and has decided to punish only Loki, because it must be Loki’s fault, and thus, this is the beginning of Loki’s burning hatred for being in the shadows. Brotherly fluff would be nice, with Thor trying to defend Loki and visiting him every night he’s “grounded” (banished to his rooms or something?) and tries to cheer him up. your choice to how Loki reacts, but sad and upset is preferable, after all he’s just a kid (not reincarnated). :)

**At Fault**

**:::**

_Midgard_

_1606_

_London, England_

 “Unhand us! We are the sons of Odin! How dare you—”

The door slammed in his face with a hollow metal clang. Thor tried to force it open again before the guard could succeed in turning the key in the lock, but to no avail. The mortal gave him a strange look before returning to his fellows, saying, “They’re taking new recruits younger and younger these days.”

Thor tried to force the bars apart, but they were as rigid and immovable as anything made in a dwarven forge. Giving up, he growled his frustration and set to pacing instead, feeling for all the world like a caged animal. All the while he was acutely aware that Loki was watching him with cool eyes from the opposite side of the cell. How he could stay so calm and quiet in a moment such as this was a mystery to Thor, who was having some difficulty deciding on _which_ of his varying levels of emotion to feel at the moment.

At first, there had been no room in his mind for anything more than indignant rage, but now, looking around, he began to worry. He, Thor Odinson, was in a dungeon. These Midgardians had the nerve to throw him in a _dungeon_. And not even a _royal_ dungeon, but one stinking of mildew and its previous inhabitants. If Heimdall was watching now – if _anyone_ in Asgard found out about this indignity – he didn’t know how he would bear the shame. Worse, he did not know how he would bear his father’s disapproval.

“How _dare_ they,” he muttered again. How could he be expected to know the laws of this blasted realm? All he had done was accept a challenge to defend his honor. It wasn’t as though they’d come to Midgard _planning_ to duel with their inhabitants. Quite the opposite. They’d only been walking along the street when a man – a mere peasant by the look of his garb – had called out a speculation that they were perhaps too young to be without their parents, and when Thor had replied that they were fully capable of fending for themselves, the mortal had the audacity to _laugh_ , and, well, how else could Thor have been expected to react? He couldn’t very well be expected to let such a slight pass unheeded, could he?

The silence in the dungeon was worse than the sound of a thousand drums. It grated on Thor’s nerves until he could take it no longer. He rounded on Loki.

“I hope you’re trying to think of a way out of here,” he said, a bit shortly. He wanted to lash out at something, and his brother was the closest thing he had to a deserving target. It had, after all, been _his_ dare that resulted in them coming to Midgard in the first place. Loki knew better than anyone that Thor could not turn down a dare, especially one that bore an additional insinuation that he was _afraid_ to venture to other realms without their father’s accompaniment. Thor had snapped that of course he wasn’t afraid, but that he simply thought Heimdall would not allow it, and then Loki had smiled and said, _“Leave that to me,”_ and, well, now here they were.

Loki arched an eyebrow. It was the expression he usually assumed when he was going to be difficult.

“You would ask _me_ for help?” he said. “I was under the impression that you were planning to escape by sheer brute strength.” His gaze flickered to the bars, still frustratingly immovable. He smirked.

Thor’s sigh came out sounding more like a growl. “I have no patience for your mockery now, brother. Can you think of a way out or not?”

There was a small sound, a scoff, from one of the cells at the opposite side of the dungeon. “Good luck,” said a tired voice. “There is no way out of here. I’ve been trying for two months. Best advice is to wait and hope to be rescued, if you’ve got any friends out there.”

Thor thought this was terrible advice; he had learned long ago that suffering the consequences of one’s predicament was generally preferable to the mortification of being _rescued_. He tried to see who had spoken, but the dungeon was illuminated only by torches and the man’s face was obscured in shadow.

For his part, Loki ignored the comment. He got to his feet and went to the cell door, his pace as cool and graceful as ever, nothing like Thor’s agitated pacing.

“Excuse me?” Loki called out into the hallway. “Guards?”

There was a long silence, then the sound of keys jangling in time with approaching footsteps. The guard who rounded the corner to face them looked apprehensive, and a bit confused – as if he were unused to being addressed so politely.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Loki said, his voice was so quiet that the guard frowned and had to step closer to hear, “but I’d like to apologize.”

Thor stared at him as though he’d just grown another head. He wasn’t the only one.

“You _what_?” the guard asked. He leaned closer, perhaps thinking he’d misheard.

“I would like to humbly apologize, for myself and for my brother. Since we’ve been arrested, neither of us has been able to eat or sleep for guilt.”

The guard blinked. “You’ve barely been here ten minutes.”

“I take naps,” Loki said practically.

“Kid, I’m sorry, but I don’t care if you feel bad,” the guard said. “Law says you can’t go around beating people up willy-nilly. That’s a crime.” His voice took on a well-rehearsed sing-song lilt. “You commit a crime, you do the time. Or pay a fine.”

“And how long did it take your poets to conjure up _that_ timeless phrase?” Loki asked. The guard glared and walked off again, muttering under his breath.

“That could have gone better,” Thor observed, disappointed. When Loki claimed to have a plan, it was generally made up for in efficiency what it lacked in grandeur.

Wordlessly, Loki turned to him and held up a ring of keys.

Thor gaped. “How did you do that?” he asked. “Magic?”

“Skill,” Loki said, a little trace of pride coloring his voice. “We should go before he notices.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to do that someday,” Thor said.

Loki only smiled as he fitted the key to the lock and edged the door open slowly, that it did not creak on its rusted hinges. When they had both slipped out, he closed it again, pocketed the keys, and turned to address the man sitting in the darkness at the opposite end of the dungeon.

“Two months,” he said. “Did you ever consider that you’re just not very good at escaping?” Thor sighed and tugged at his arm, not wanting to delay. “You might want to reevaluate your life choices.”

“Let’s _go_ ,” Thor insisted.

“It’s just a suggestion.”

**:::**

They had barely stepped off the Bifrost when it occurred to Thor that they might have been better off having stayed in Midgard.

Their father stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Heimdall. Thor might have imagined that Heimdall looked amused, if he wore any expression at all. Odin, on the other hand, stood his arms crossed, his one eye narrowed – the archetypal posture of seething disapproval.

“I can explain,” Loki said. It seemed to have become his instinctual response these days.

“Oh, and you _will_ ,” said Odin. “Thor, go. I’ll deal with you later.”

Thor hesitated. He would have preferred to be with Loki for this, to let his clever little brother do the talking and nod along when appropriate. He didn’t think he could talk his way out of this on his own.

“ _Go_ ,” Odin repeated, and, with a final worried look over his shoulder, Thor did. He hoped that he could meet up with Loki again before his own inevitable interrogation to get their stories straight, but somehow he doubted that they would be that fortunate.

At the end of the bridge, he found Sif and the Warriors Three waiting for him with anxious expressions.

“We’re sorry,” Volstagg said. He was biting his nails, as was his habit when nervous. “We told him. You were gone for a long time. We were getting worried.”

“I tried to tell him it was Loki’s fault for daring you to go, but he wasn’t really listening,” said Sif. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Thor muttered, stalking past them. He would have liked them to think him capable of making a simple trip to Midgard unscathed, but as the night’s events had clearly proven, that was not the case. It stung that his friends knew it.

 “We asked Heimdall what was going on,” Fandral said. Sif elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a warning look, but he kept on, undeterred, “He said you got in a fight and then they locked you up in a dungeon and Loki had to save you.”

At that moment Thor wanted nothing more than return to his room and die of shame. “No,” he said, lying because he couldn’t bear to admit to it, knowing even as he did that it was in vain.

“Heimdall speaks only the truth,” Hogun said.

“He also said that you cried,” Fandral added. Sif delivered a hard, backhanded slap to his arm. “ _Ow!_ ”

“It’s all right, Thor,” Hogun said. “Everyone knows that Heimdall makes things up.”

Thor clasped his hands over his ears and refused to listen to another word all the way back to his room.

**:::**

He spent the rest of the night and the following day in a state of total dread, waiting for the axe to fall. There was no lock on his door, but somehow this was a thousand times worse than being imprisoned. The worst thing that the mortals had done was give him harsh looks and make snide comments; he didn’t want to imagine the worst thing his father could do.

Eventually hunger won out of fear, and he made his way from his room to the dining hall, half-expecting to be immediately sent away. He found the rest of his family assembled there, along with a few of Odin’s advisors and Frigga’s handmaidens. Loki was sitting in his usual place at the end of the high table, his eyes cast down on the plate of food he was sculpting rather than eating. It was, as usual, impossible to read his expression. Thor hesitated, unsure of what to make of the sight before him.

“Finally, Thor,” Frigga said when she looked up and caught sight of him lingering in the doorway. “Your dinner’s getting cold.”

The normalcy of it all seemed like a good sign at least. Thor hurried to his usual place, doing his best not to catch Odin’s attention. Thankfully, he seemed absorbed in other matters at the moment and did not so much as glance up.

Not wanting to press his luck, Thor kept his voice as low as he could manage when he turned to address Loki. “What happened?”

“Father said that a jail sentence would have been a fitting punishment,” Loki muttered, his voice hollow, as if he were reciting the lines of a particularly boring poem. He did not look up. “I’m not supposed to leave my room except for meals. What happened to you?”

“Nothing yet,” Thor admitted. He cast a worried glance up the table to where their father was still otherwise occupied. “I think he wants to draw this out.”

“Most likely.”

“How is being confined to your room a punishment? You spend all your time there anyway.”

Loki sighed, becoming intently interested in nudging a piece of baked apple around on his plate. “They took away my spell books,” he said at last, reluctantly. “Even the ones I had hidden.”

The idea of Loki without a book in his hands was almost inconceivable. The people who accused Thor of restlessness had never seen Loki when he was bored. Halting his continuous quest to learn all that he could was unimaginably cruel.

Thor frowned. “So what are you doing with your time?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Staring at the ceiling, mostly.”

Odin’s voice from down the table made them both jump. “Loki, if you’re not going to eat your dinner, you can go back to your room,” he said. Thor waited to be reprimanded as well, but it didn’t happen.

Loki cast a despairing look at Thor before shoving his plate away and hurrying from the dining hall. Frigga sighed. “Did that _ever_ work on you when you were that age?” she asked her husband. He shrugged but otherwise ignored the question. Again Thor waited for his father to turn and speak to him.

Again there was nothing.

**:::**

He slept fitfully through the night and spent the better part of the morning expecting the door to open and his father to walk in, having decided upon a fitting punishment. It didn’t happen. When the sun was high overhead, there was a knock on the door, and he opened it to find the Warriors Three standing there with hopeful expressions. (Well, as hopeful as Hogun’s expression ever was.)

“Sif claims to have found a mountain lake that’s purple from the color of the stones at the bottom,” Volstagg said in a rush. “We’re going to see if all the fish are purple too. Care you join us?”

Thor found that the idea of a carefree afternoon spent with his friends was only too welcome, and just imagining it began to soothe the nervous knots in his stomach. But—he glanced up and down the empty hall. They were alone, but there was no guarantee that would last. Odin might arrive at any moment, and then what sort of trouble would Thor be in if he weren’t here? In a rare moment’s forethought, he hung back, shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I think I’m in trouble,” Thor said quietly. And now he wished nothing more than to close the door. With the Warriors Three, he was the one in the group who never had to worry about consequences. He could go where he wished and do as he pleased, and he knew they admired and envied him for it. Admitting to even his father’s authority was a blow to his pride.

Fandral looked perplexed. “You _think_ you’re in trouble? How can you not know?”

“Father hasn’t said so yet.” This was truly painful.

“Well, until he says so, you’re not,” Fandral said. “Come on, let’s—”

Thor closed the door, unable to bear it any longer. If they kept asking, he knew his resolve would waver, and he would be even worse off than he was. He listened in silence to their implorations that he open the door, and then to them muttering amongst themselves, and then eventually to their retreating footsteps.

**:::**

He endured the loneliness as long as he could – which was only the space of a few more hours, in all honesty. Thor never could stand inactivity for long. His legs wanted to run, his hands itched to hold a weapon – even if it was only one of the wooden training swords that he hand his friends used for sparing. Unlike Loki, he kept nothing of any interest in his room to begin with. There were a few interesting rocks and scraps of metal he’d found on adventures, but little else. He came here to sleep and spent the more engaging moments of his life out in the open air.

When he eased the door open leaned outside, he half-expected to find guards stationed at either end of the hallway. It was empty. More than anything, more than his self-enforced isolation, it was the lack of reaction from Odin that was grating on his nerves. It wasn’t as though he would ever seek out his father and ask what his punishment was, but he did wish to have it over with already. Although—there was a little glimmer of hope that he didn’t dare look at too closely, that he might not be in trouble at all. It wasn’t like Odin to wait to deliver justice, and Thor certainly didn’t believe that his fate was being decided. It was one of the traits he had inherited from his father, that inclination towards instantaneous decision making. But while Odin’s decisions were usually the right ones, Thor had yet to acquire the same level of wisdom.

Worrying over what would happen next was driving him mad. He needed the company his friends to distract him, but leaving Asgard in pursuit of the Warriors Three would probably be pushing his luck just a tad bit too far. So instead he found himself trying his best at stealth, making his way to Loki’s room.

At first he almost did not think his brother would open the door, when, after Thor first knocked, there was no answer. Loki tended to take punishments like these far too personally, and when he had properly settled into sulking, it was nearly impossible to convince him to interact with anyone else. He would seem to leave the room while still being physically present, his eyes growing distant, his expression flat and unreadable. It was a trait Thor had always found a bit unnerving, if not downright creepy.

But despite his expectations, when he knocked a second time, the door was drawn open and he found himself fixated with a familiar green-eyed stare. It was a stare that clearly said _I do not have time or patience for this today._

“What?”

Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. One day he really would have to ask Loki how he managed that particular expression. It always seemed to make the subject of his observation feel as though he were staring into their very soul and finding a great many things to disapprove. Thor thought that such a skill could be useful. “I thought you might want company,” he said, not at all as confidently as he’d intended.

Loki’s expression softened momentarily. “I’m not supposed to have visitors.”

“No one knows I’m here.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that.”

“You think you are the only one capable of stealth?”

“I _think_ that I heard your footsteps from halfway down the hall.” All the same, he held the door open a bit wider and Thor gratefully stepped inside.

“I’m afraid I won’t be very good company,” Loki said, going to sit cross-legged at the foot of his bed. It was a close to an invitation to stay as he would ever give, and Thor accepted it. “Father had everything with any entertainment value whatsoever removed from my room.”

This was obvious; the desk where Loki kept his books and poems and bits of parchment was gone, and the walls were stripped of their usual blanket of maps. The result was a prevalent sense of emptiness, of wrongness.

“We’ll have to make our own entertainment, then,” Thor said.

“We could talk,” Loki suggested. He looked suddenly uncertain, and Thor could easily imagine why. As much as he enjoyed Loki’s company, they did have very few similar interests.

Still, he refused to be dismayed, and forced a smile with confidence he did not feel. “An excellent idea, brother! Talk we shall.”

**:::**

Thor was fairly sure that some hours must have passed in the utter silence that followed. Occasionally he would start to speak before remembering that the topic was one Loki did not care for, or that the story was one he had already heard a dozen times.

Presently he leaned over and tried to surreptitiously nudge the curtains aside. It must have been at least sundown by now…

“I saw that.”

Thor gave up with a sigh. “I merely wondered how long we’ve been sitting here enjoying ourselves,” he said.

“You don’t have to stay,” said Loki. “There’s no need for you to get into more trouble on my account.” Something must have shown in Thor’s expression, because Loki suddenly frowned. “What is it?”

Thor could withhold information and let others draw their own conclusions, but he could never tell an outright lie with any amount of conviction. Especially not someone who lied as naturally and easily as Loki.

“I’m not in trouble at all,” he admitted at last. He thought about adding ‘Yet’ but somehow it seemed patronizing. If Odin had meant to punish him, he would have done so already.

“What?”

He shrugged, suddenly unable to meet his brother’s gaze. He looked instead at the floor. “Apparently you’re the only one who’s in trouble over this,” he said, and then, not quite sure why, but suddenly defensive, he added, “You were the one who dared me to go, after all.”

“You were the one who actually insisted on going!”

“You knew I couldn’t turn down a dare!” Thor said, getting to his feet. He could feel an argument brewing here, maybe even a proper fight. Somehow he almost wanted that to happen. An argument with his brother, at least, would have felt like some sort of consequence, some sort of closure to the whole event.

But Loki, who was usually so insistent on having the last word, didn’t reply. He looked at Thor, then looked away, his expression unreadable. In a rare lapse of composure, he fidgeted with the high collar of his shirt.

When he did finally speak, his voice was soft, as though its bones had been broken. “That’s not fair,” he said. It was not at all like the words Thor would often shout in fits of temper, and attempt to dissuade some judgment. It was a level statement of fact.

Thor might have argued to the contrary, but something in the atmosphere of the room had changed, and, for once, he held his tongue. Sighing, he paced, looking around in vain for some distraction. The very air itself suddenly seemed heavy and uncomfortable, and he found that while he was usually curious as to the content of his brother’s thoughts, at this moment he did not want to know. He did not want Loki to speak his mind. He had a feeling he would not like what he heard.

At last he said, “Come, let us put this aside for now. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

That, at least, was a little better, a little more familiar. It had always been Loki’s habit to go on a small hunger strike whenever he was upset over some perceived slight, and Thor recognized it as sign of some childish sulk that would quickly pass.

“You’re so thin you can hardly afford to miss any meals,” he said.

Loki was silent, still not looking at him. Thor had expected some sort of jab at his own eating habits, but perhaps that was a bit much to hope for. He supposed that Loki needed time to himself now, and that things would be well again soon enough.

“I’ll come back to visit you tomorrow,” he promised, which at least earned him a small nod. He took it for as good a sign as he would ever get and slipped out the door.

**:::**

All through dinner Thor listened without really hearing to the conversations unfolding around him; soft, lilting voices floating from each table, some tittering with laughter, some serious. He caught bits and pieces of the tales told by the Warriors Three, of their recounting the story of their venture to the purple lake in the mountains to whoever would listen. To his left, Odin and Frigga were discussing the proper way to prepare wood for a fire, and neither paid him much mind. To his right was an empty chair. Several times, Thor thought of some idea or observation he would have liked to share, started to turn, and then realized he had no one to speak to. Strange, how he found more things to say to Loki when Loki wasn’t actually present. Thor had never wanted for friends or companionship; he was always surrounded by people who liked him well-enough, but he suddenly knew what it was to feel intensely lonely. He’d never thought before that he really needed Loki for anything, but now that he was not here…

Seeking to distract himself, Thor turned to his mother. “Can I—” he began.

Frigga held up a hand, a gesture that was not unkind, that he should wait. She was eyeing the silverware that Odin was using to demonstrate his fire-building technique.

“You’re building a tripod,” she surmised.

“Each of these three forks represents a stick,” Odin said. “I’m slanting them together to form a common center.”

“Mother—” Thor tried again.

Frigga still ignored him. “Isn’t that a tripod?”

“Well… yes.”

“But you thought you’d use more words?”

 “ _Mother_ ,” Thor repeated, insistently now, tugging at her sleeve. She finally turned and gave him a look that bordered on exasperation.

“Yes, Thor?”

He pointed. “Can I go sit with the Warriors Three and Sif?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Frigga said. “You’re a prince. Stay here, at the high table.”

“Oh, let him go,” said Odin. For the first time since he’d arrived home, Thor dared meet his father’s gaze. He expected to find anger or judgment there, but Odin looked at him just as mildly as ever before turning back to Frigga. “I don’t see how it could hurt anything.”

Frigga sighed, relenting with a shrug, and Thor hurried off before she could change her mind. If anything, he was more confused than he’d been before. Trying to guess his father’s motives was giving him a headache, and he decided that he would put those thoughts aside for a time.

His friends welcomed him warmly, and, to his relief, did not press the reason for his absence from their adventures today. It looked for a moment as though Volstagg was about to say something, but Fandral interrupted.

“We found a beast,” he said. His eyes were shining with breathless excitement.

Sif gave a loud sigh. “For the tenth time, it was _not_ a beast!”

“Oh, it was _definitely_ a beast.”

“What manner of beast?” Thor asked, intrigued.

Volstagg’s voice was muffled, as he was gnawing the last remnants of meat from a chicken bone. “We didn’t get a good look at it,” he said. “But it was most assuredly a beast. A ferocious lake monster.”

Hogun nodded.

“It was a stick,” said Sif.

Fandral cast her an irritated look. “We’re going to track it down and slay it on the ‘morrow,” he said. “Won’t you join us, Thor?”

He started to reply instinctively that yes, he would – and then the memory of his promise to visit Loki stopped him. His brief interaction with Odin had dispelled some of his fear of leaving his quarters, but now he had this blasted promise keeping him from going off with his friends. He’d traded one prison for another.

“I think not,” he said at last, reluctantly. “I wish you luck, but I think I’ll stay here for now.”

“ _Here_?” Fandral looked around as if he could not possibly imagine why anyone would ever want to stay in the city if not for the purpose of feasting and recounting great tales. To be fair, Thor could hardly imagine any reasons himself. “What will you do _here_? Read?”

Volstagg laughed so hardly at the suggestion that Hogun, who had the misfortune of sitting next to him, actually jumped a bit.

Thor tried his best not to take offense.

**:::**

He kept his promise, returning to Loki’s room earlier the next day. This time he did not bother to knock. Some part of his mind doubted that Loki would have answered if he had.

He found his brother lying flat on his back, staring blankly up at the high vaulted ceiling.

“You weren’t kidding,” Thor said. He’d half-hoped that Loki’s comment about this had been made in jest, but now that he thought of it, what _else_ was there to do here? The few hours Thor had spent in his room had proved torturously boring, but it was always tempered by the idea of freedom, that he still could leave if he really wanted to. Loki didn’t even have that.

Thor went to sit next to him, determined to be a better conversationalist today.

“Nice weather we’re having,” he said. Frigga had once told him that an inoffensive comment was the best way to start a conversation he wasn’t sure of.

Apparently, though, the weather was not as inoffensive as he’d thought. Loki’s eyes remained fixated on a spot on the ceiling, as if he were hoping it might burst into flames through force of will alone. “I wouldn’t know,” he said.

Thor sighed again and reached out a hand toward him, only to be met by a very pointed flinch.

“Listen,” he said, dropped his hand, “I’m sure that Father had a good reason to refrain from punishing both of us. You yourself have remarked upon his wisdom countless times, saying that there is a purpose to everything he does. Even if – and especially when – we cannot see it.” He felt a bit of pride in himself for remembering Loki’s words on the matter. It would make it more difficult for him to argue. “Maybe we will see that reason soon. Until then, let us have peace.”

“The _reason_ is that he likes you better,” Loki said blackly.

It was so sudden and so ridiculous that Thor could not help but laugh. This, at least, earned him a look; unfortunately that look was a glare.

“He doesn’t like you better!” he said, still amused by the very idea that either of them was favored over the other. He’d never once seen any evidence towards the claim. Odin had always been exceedingly fair with them, and Thor saw no reason to let this incident taint that perception. On some level he still thought that he would eventually be called to his father’s hall and thoroughly reprimanded. “It’s foolish for you to take so small a thing so personally.”

Loki’s eyes flashed. “Are you saying I’m a fool, Thor?”

Thor ignored that, being well-used to the curious tendency Loki had towards reading insult into every offhand comment. He fondly ruffled his brother’s dark hair before he could be met with any resistance. “Perhaps we can find some way for you to sneak out,” he suggested. “Fandral mentioned that he’d discovered a strange creature in a purple lake. The Warriors Three and Sif are going to investigate it soon. They invited us to join them.”

“Us?” Loki repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

Thor hesitated. “All right, _me_. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you were to join us—”

“Oh, they wouldn’t _mind_ my presence,” Loki said, his eyes cold. “What an honor.”

It wasn’t what Thor had meant, not in the slightest. It seemed that Loki was going out of his way to find some reason to be offended today.

“You spend too much time sulking at slights that exist only in your mind, brother,” Thor said.

“So I’m delusional as well now?”

He could not have proven Thor’s point more perfectly had he tried.

“I didn’t say that,” Thor said, careful to keep his voice even. By this point he was starting to suspect that there might be some other element at play to this conversation, but he could not guess what it might be. He was certain that he would never in his life understand a complexity, and when Loki insisted on exploiting that weakness, it was most irritating. “Have I done something to offend you, brother?” he asked at last, directly.

The look that flashed across Loki’s face was one of pure hurt, so sudden and sharp that Thor instinctually looked him over for some sort of physical wound. Then the expression was gone, and when he spoke his tone was as cool and indifferent as ever.

“It’s not your fault. The boredom must be getting to me, I suppose.”

Sighing, Thor gave up. If there was some motivation that Loki was so intent on concealing, then it would do little good to pry. He guarded his thoughts as closely as a miser guarded gold.

“Perhaps you’ll be in a better mood tomorrow,” Thor said without much conviction, rising to his feet. Receiving no more answer than a stiff-shouldered shrug, he turned for the door and left without another word.

**:::**

He did not return the next day. Rather, when the Warriors Three arrived at his door and invited him to join them again, he accepted. In his mind he rationalized that Loki didn’t want his company anyway and staying in his room would be punishing himself for something that wasn’t even his fault.

They did not find a beast in the lake, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. They did have something of a close call, when, having waded out far into the purple water, Hogun suddenly let loose an unearthly shriek, and made a hasty retreat, claiming that something had brushed up against his leg. Volstagg said that it was probably a fish, though he did look worried, and the mocking teasing that followed was only halfhearted. Thor thought that this was somewhat more of a challenge than they were prepared to face, though he kept that thought to himself. The strange rocks at the bottom of the lake made the water appear darker and more ominous, and Fandral’s recollection of the beast seemed to grow large by the minute. Eventually they had to concede defeat and trudge back to the shore to dry out a bit in the fading sunlight.

“Really, when we look back on this day, I would just like everyone to remember one thing,” Fandral said. He held up a hand as if to paint imaginary words across the air. “Hogun the Grim, screaming like a frightened maiden.”

Thor laughed.

“I did not scream like a maiden,” Hogun said.

“Oh, but you did,” said Fandral. “And in front of our fearless leader, too. I’m sure Thor would never have screamed.”

“Thor doesn’t scream; he roars,” Volstagg said. And then, as though some thought had just occurred to him, “Speaking of your fearless ventures, Thor, we never _did_ hear your account of Midgard. Surely it must have been more glorious than Heimdall made it out to be.”

It had actually been much, much _less_ glorious. The memory brought all sorts of guilt bubbling to the surface again.

Thankfully he was spared having to answer, when, with a slight rustle of the bushes she’d pushed aside, Sif stepped into view. She was immediately greeted with a chorus of welcoming shouts, but they quieted upon catching sight of the worried look on her face.

“I’m afraid something terrible may have just happened in these woods, my friends,” she said, her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Just now on my way to join you, I heard a woman shrieking in terrible fear.”

It took some time before anyone had recovered from their laughing fit well enough to speak. Hogun merely stared off into the distance, scowling. He had either decided to bear his indignity with as much composure as possible, or he was plotting ways to kill them while they slept.

It took some time for Fandral to recount to Sif the tale of their failed search – perhaps some time more than it _should_ have, for Fandral always seemed to enjoy those rare times when Sif’s attention was focused on him. When he had finished, Sif looked out across the lake, her eyes narrowed and calculating. When she was not carried away by the heat of battle, she was the member of their party most inclined towards strategy.

“ _If_ there were a beast,” she began, holding up a hand to quiet the insistences that _of course_ there was a beast, “we would never be able to see it in these waters.”

Thor did not think that this was a particularly productive observation. “Short of changing the color of the water, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

Sif’s mouth twisted. “Why _don’t_ we change the colors of the water?” she asked. “Where’s Loki? I’m sure he would oblige us with a bit of magic.” She was usually inclined to sneer at magic, but when finding it could be used to her advantage she became surprisingly open-minded.

Thor picked up a large rock, turning it between his hands. He’d hoped to forget the whole unpleasant situation today, but it seemed that even the off-hand comments of his friends were designed to remind him of it.

“He’s busy reading,” Thor said at last. “He asked not to be disturbed.”

“But surely—”

“There!” Fandral said suddenly, springing to his feet. “It’s the beast! Look!”

The previous conversation quite forgotten, they hurried to the lake edge and looked at the place Fandral had indicated. Volstagg immediately agreed that it was in fact the beast; Thor sort of thought that it looked like a stick. He chose not to say anything, quite content with the distraction for now.

**:::**

Thor never spent much time wondering over morality. To him, right and wrong were simple enough concepts that they required no further examination. He did things because they were the right things to do, and he held no aspirations of evil.

As straightforward as this decision making process seemed, he was discovering now that there may be some drawbacks to it. While he could not pinpoint _exactly_ what was wrong with going to the lake with his friends, a guilty weight had settled into the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling Thor recognized from only once before, when he’d eaten stolen apples from Idun’s orchard. It wasn’t as if it was hurting anyone, or as if the apples had been meant for someone else, and so at first he’d reasoned that there was no harm in it. But then that feeling had descended, and he hadn’t been able to shake it with any amount of justification. He hadn’t been able to sleep for nearly a week, and spent all his daylight hours jumping at shadows, expecting to be accosted and punished for what he’d slowly come to think of as a most grievous crime.

The solution had been to tell the truth and apologize to Idun; unfortunately now, lying in the dark of what was no longer night but early morning, he couldn’t think of such a simple way to shake _this_ feeling. He thought perhaps to tell Odin that he’d gone out, but that did not seem quite right. After all, he had never been forbidden from leaving, and even encouraged to be with his friends. No, his father was not the one he needed to make amends with.

And there things became complicated again. Loki never thought any apology to be genuine because his own never were. Thor could try, he supposed, but he could already hear the exasperated sigh it would earn him, along with the off-hand claim that it was ‘of little consequence’ because Loki said things like ‘of little consequence’ a _lot_. Way more than anyone his age probably should, in Thor’s opinion.

He could almost feel the night slipping away, minute by excruciating minute.

Maybe he could just think of some way of making up for it. Action, after all, came more easily to him than words. Perhaps some sort of gift would suffice to prove his repentance – but it couldn’t be just _anything_. The only person he’d ever gotten gifts for was his mother, and he suspected that the standard bouquet of flowers wouldn’t translate over well here. It would have to take some sort of effort, too, or Loki would make some sharp comment about how he _really shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble_.

Killing something and bringing back its skin would be one idea. He thought of how unadorned Loki’s room was, and how people were starting to worry about his lack of interest in hunting. If Thor managed this correctly, Loki could claim the kill as his own and then no one would have any cause to tease him—

But the version of Loki in Thor’s head was already sneering at the animal skin and saying that he would never deign to keep such an eyesore in his room and _I hope you washed your hands, it’s probably crawling with disease, Thor, really._

This was proving more difficult than he’d thought.

Then inspiration struck like a bolt of lightning, and he was out of bed and tugging on his shoes before the thought had even been fully realized.

Loki was missing his books. Thor would find him a new one.

And not just any book, no, but one of the books that Odin kept in his private library, one of thick tomes smelling of mothballs and blood that he’d forbidden either of his sons from touching until they were older. The upper levels of the library were guarded by a series of traps and tricks and riddles, so there was a level of danger as well to prove that he was willing to risk his own well-being for his brother’s happiness. Combined with the thought that had gone into this decision, it was perfect. Loki would have no choice but to forgive him.

The halls of the palace were washed dark gold and shimmering in the moonlight. There was no cause for feasting or celebration tonight, and so the torches lining the walls were left unlit, and more than once Thor found himself wandering blindly in the dark, operating on memory alone to know how many steps to take and where to turn. He considered retrieving a torch of his own, but remembering Loki’s barb about his lack of stealth, decided against it. He may have avoided punishment for the ill-conceived trip to Midgard, but he doubted that this would be forgiven as easily.

He lost his way twice, once finding himself in the dining hall and once in one of the many weapons rooms, but each time it served to give him some idea of where he was and he struck out again with a more purposeful step.

The huge arched doors to the library were open a crack, which was not too odd in itself. There was little need to close them when the most valuable books had their own enchantments to prevent them from being lifted from their shelves by unfriendly finger. What Thor did find odd was the tiny, cool white light that emanated from within.

With the bookshelves like a labyrinth, he could not see the source of the light. He had his suspicions, however, and made every effort to quiet his footsteps as he made his way towards it. Once the light flickered slightly, like a guttering flame, although Thor knew that no real fire had ever burned that color. Then it steadied again, and Thor carefully leaned around the corner of a bookshelf to look upon the source.

“This is the second time I’ve snuck up on you now,” he said.

Loki jumped a bit and looked up from the book he’d been so absorbed with reading. It always seemed to take him a moment to find his way back to reality through that labyrinth of words, but when he did, his expression smoothed again and he made an effort at composure. “What are you doing here, Thor?” he asked coolly. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Thor indicated the books. “I see you’ve found a way around Father’s punishment after all.”

“So have you.”

“That was none of my doing. It’s Father’s choice who—”

“Oh, and I’m sure you begged to be held responsible.”

Already irritated, Thor gritted his teeth to stop himself from replying. He’d set out intending to make amends, not to continue this argument.

“I’ll leave you to your reading, then,” he said, as graciously as he could manage, and turned to go. The staircase leading to the upper levels was somewhere at the back of the library, but he could not remember its exact location. In the dark, it would take some searching to find, and he did not want to linger here longer than necessary in case some guard happened to pass and investigate.

He did not hear Loki’s footsteps, but the floating orb of white light followed him, illuminating the dark paths between bookshelves.

“What are you doing here?” Loki asked after a moment. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sneaking into the library all these years to do your reading while no one was looking.”

Thor was growing tired of the constant implications that he was somehow stupid, and the real curiosity in Loki’s tone presented a perfect means of revenge. He decided to be difficult.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“You’re sneaking into the library – a room which you usually avoid as though it holds a personal grudge against you – in the middle of the night. The whole thing _concerns_ me very much,” Loki said. “I’m wondering if you’ve fallen victim to some sort of curse.”

Thor didn’t turn to look at him, but the change in his tone was still evident. Loki was teasing now, amused. It was not the tone he usually employed when he was sulking, and Thor brightened a little to think that perhaps that was over with now.

He’d still do well to retrieve on of Father’s books, however. Just to be on the save side.

Still intent on being a bit cryptic, he said, “I’m going to perform a heroic deed to gain your favor again, brother.”

“What sort ‘heroic deed’ could you possibly hope to accomplish in the li—” He broke off suddenly, realization dawning. “Thor, _no_.”

At last, Thor turned to him. “Why not?” he asked. “Father’s traps cannot be as difficult as all that.”

“Yes, they can. They’re _deadly_.”

“How would you know?”

“It’s common sense; a thing that _most_ people have.”

Thor ignored the barb. “I will best this challenge and return with a book for you, and then we can put aside this petty dispute.”

In an instant, Loki’s eyes went cold again. “Save your time,” he said. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re clearly angry with me,” Thor said. He wondered for a moment if this was one of Loki’s usual lies, perhaps a trick to dissuade him from the risk of Odin’s traps – but there was very real conviction in his voice. Usually Loki’s lies were delivered as flatly and smoothly as the rest of his speech, making it impossible to tell the difference. But there was rarely any sort of emotion to them, because Loki rarely spoke with much emotion to begin.

A moment’s hesitation on Loki’s part. Then, “If you survive, at least get something that looks interesting.”

Thor turned to go – Loki put a hand on his shoulder.

“My definition of ‘interesting’ doesn’t include an overabundance of pictures,” he added.

“I know.”

“Because your definition and mine—”

“Are you stalling so I’ll ask you to join me, brother?”

Loki sighed. “Well, if you’re going to insist like this, I don’t see what choice I have. Honestly, Thor, you can be _so_ stubborn some times.”

Thor chose not to comment. But he couldn’t fight back a smile.

**:::**

The first trap was a tripwire that would have been impossible to see without the conjured light, and even then Thor was so unused to looking down that he nearly missed it. It was barely more than a glimmer of gold in the light. They stepped over it with great care, and a few paces looked back and took note of the sharp glint of a steel axe suspended overhead. Apparently Odin considered guarding these books to be a serious matter indeed.

The second trap they avoided only because Thor was instinctually cautious about opening doors. Too many times when they were younger he had fallen victim to one of Loki’s pranks, shoving a door open only to dislodge the bucket of water overhead and find himself drenched. The liquid that fell from over this door was not water, but some strange purple liquid. A few drops splashed up from the floor and landed on the back of his hand, which immediately felt numb and heavy. Loki cleaned away the mess with a wave of his hand and assessed that the full bucket would have caused several hours’ worth of paralysis, enough to keep the intruder frozen in place long enough for Odin to come collect them at his leisure.

By this point Thor was wondering just what was in these books that were so carefully guarded. The one other time they had been here, accompanied then by their father, he could not remember seeing anything that looked particularly valuable or particularly evil. But he well-remembered the hungry look that had been in Loki’s eyes as he looked over the shelves, and their father’s worried tone as he’d said that perhaps they would be allowed later. In fact, now it seemed strange that Thor had been the one to initiate this venture, when Loki had so obviously wished to. The threat of danger or repercussions had never stopped him before. If anything, the challenge should have encouraged him—

And suddenly he felt very stupid indeed. “You’ve been through here before,” he said. “You knew the traps were deadly because you’ve gotten past them before.”

Loki didn’t look at him. “You were obviously feeling guilty,” he said mildly. “Why not put it to good use?”

“So you’ve let me go along with this venture, let me risk my life—”

“Oh, please,” Loki said, giving him that old familiar look that he employed when he believed his brother was being willfully stupid. “Your life’s in no danger. So long as you don’t step on the—”

One of the stone’s under Thor’s foot shifted suddenly, sinking downwards into the floor. He recoiled, but too late. From down the hall there was a horrible noise, a banging and crashing, like the sounds of battle in the sparring ring during summer days. It would wake everyone in the castle—and it sounded dangerous besides.

“—on the stones with markings,” Loki finished. In the strange light, his face was paler than normal.

The noise drew closer. Thor suddenly regretted having decided against bringing a weapon.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Guards. Enchanted sentinels.”

“I’m unarmed!”

“It wouldn’t help anyway; they’re not alive to begin with.”

“Then what do we do?”

For all his quick thinking, Loki just stood there without moving, his face utterly blank, and for a moment it seemed that the whole future was a vivid picture in Thor’s mind. They’d be torn apart by these things, or _worse_ , be found by Odin and wind up in even greater trouble, and because it had been Thor’s fault Loki would blame him even more and nothing would ever be all right again, ever.

It was that thought that jolted him into action. Seeing no other option, he grabbed Loki’s wrist and ran.

There were a few moments before Loki registered that Thor was trying to save them, during which he stumbled along awkwardly after him, but then he broke into a run as well, Thor still clinging to his wrist.

Whatever sort of guards Odin had enchanted to watch over the library lacked speed. Near the first trap, the tripwire, Thor looked back and saw the dark bulking shapes stepping into the hallway for the first time, but by that point they were far enough away that there the danger was diminished. It went against Thor’s every instinct to flee from battle, no matter how poorly matched, but the greater threat of retribution from Odin should they be discovered here kept him moving forward.

They were out of the library in record time, the clanking of metallic footsteps muffled by the distance, but they didn’t stop there; suddenly drugged with a feeling of coltish exhilaration, possibly due to their near-detection, they kept running, side by side, perfectly together and in step. Down the next corridor and the next, and another and another and another, down staircases, until the reflection of torchlight against the wall before them brought them to a sudden halt. Loki cast a quick glance around, by this point entirely recovered from his momentary freeze-up in the library, and Thor allowed himself to be pulled into the nearest unoccupied room. Under any other circumstances, there would have been little cause for concern to be seen out of bed; their mother might have had a disapproving word or two to say on the matter, but with the break-in the Odin’s private library discovered, being seen now would be highly conspicuous.

Standing in the darkness, they managed to quiet their breathing until the light of the torches and the sound of footsteps had passed them by, leaving the hallway outside dark and empty again. Thor found himself suddenly exhausted; if nothing else, this venture had certainly cured the guilt that kept him from sleep. There were splitting stitches in his sides and for a moment he entertained the irrational thought that he would never properly catch his breath again—and, despite everything, when he met Loki’s gaze in the dim light, they both began to laugh uncontrollably.

There was nothing cold or restrained about Loki’s laugh, contrary to what one would think to look at him. It was a warm, natural sound, but one that even Thor had only heard on the rarest occasions. At his most amused Loki usually preferred to smirk; it was not out of any particular sadness, but simply because such good humor was not in his nature. Thor thought this was a terrible shame, as there was no sight in all the nine realms that he treasured more than his brother’s smile.

It was impossible to pinpoint exactly what it was that either of them found particularly funny, but Thor was not in the mood to go looking for reasons at this moment.

At last, recovering enough to speak, Loki said, “We really should have adventures like this more often.”

“We have adventures all the time. The matter of the lake-beast is yet to be resolved. Perhaps you could—” He caught himself, broke off, but not quickly enough. There was still a layer to this that he sensed was unresolved, a quick way to turn happiness to antagonism again.

Thankfully, Loki sidestepped the issue. “No, I’m not talking about adventures with your friends,” he said. “I meant the two of us.”

It was perhaps the first time he’d ever implied that human companionship would be more welcomed than tolerated, and, caught off-guard, Thor wasn’t prepared to answer that sort of sentiment. “My friends have never done anything to make you feel unwelcome,” he said at last. It was the first thing that he could think to say.

“Yes, but they are _your_ friends, not mine. I’m different from them, that’s all.”

“But you and I are different as well.” It was difficult to forget that, even now. The memory of awkward silent hours passed trying to think up some topic of conversation was still fresh in Thor’s mind.

Loki rolled his eyes – irritated again, but fondly so. “Does it really need to be said so plainly for you to understand?” he asked. “You’re my brother. Differences aside, I—well, I don’t mind—I suppose that if you wanted to stretch the definition of the word, you could say I even _enjoy_ spending time with you.” Catching sight of Thor’s grin, he quickly added, “Not through any virtue of yours, of course, and would you just _wipe that smile off your face_ —”

“Of course,” Thor said, making no effort at all to do so.

**:::**

The previous night’s sleeplessness had taken its toll. Thor usually awoke with the rising sun, but the next day he was dragged from sleep at midmorning by a loud, insistent knocking on the door. Even bleary with sleep, he had the presence of mind to wonder if it was their father, if they’d been seen fleeing the library last night, or worse, if Heimdall had reported the disturbance. (Heimdall – why hadn’t that complication ever crossed his mind before?)

But then there was Volstagg’s voice from the hallway. “Thor! Are you there?”

Thor did his best to compose himself before opening the door, but it was difficult. The golden sunlight streaming through the window made it difficult to open his eyes without squinting, and the Warriors Three took in his disheveled appearance in surprise.

“You’re not ready,” Fandral said, his tone as close to disapproving as it ever was.

“Ready for what?”

“Why, for the continuation of our quest, of course!”

“What quest?”

“The quest to slay the beast!”

Thor ran a hand over his face. It took a moment to remember what they were talking about. The idea of getting dressed and running off to the lake for the sake of standing around and shouting at sticks in the water was no longer as welcome as it had been yesterday. There was little excitement to it, especially after last night, and moreover he’d awoken with a sudden sense of purpose. There was something he needed to do, another quest of greater importance, not to mention greater danger.

He made an excuse about not feeling well, which they believed easily enough at seeing how very tired he still was. Hogun recoiled as if fearing the transmission of some plague, and Fandral and Volstagg reluctantly followed suit, wishing him better health and promising to relay the tale of their victory the beast when they returned.

Even knowing what he had to do, it was difficult to hold his resolve. Thor preferred to throw himself into battle without thinking, without allowing himself time to worry and second guess his judgement. Even the few minutes it took to get dressed required more willpower than he was used to exerting; he suddenly doubted that he would be able to make his way to the All-father’s hall without wavering in his purpose if he did not first remind himself of the reason he had for doing this.

He took a short detour to Loki’s room, planning only to offer a polite morning greeting, but he found that the doorknob would not turn under his hand. This was odd – he knew that, like his own room, there was no lock on this door. Perhaps it was some enchantment to prevent people from walking in unannounced. Thor was unused to knocking, as it seemed an unnecessary step to the process of entering a room, but if it was Loki’s wish that he do so, well, that was a small enough thing to concede.

But the door did not open after he knocked, either. Nor was there an answer from within, even when Thor raised his voice in a pleasant greeting. He waited, tried again, and still received no answer.

A slow, creeping doubt began nagging at his mind. Had he said something offensive last night to undo the spirit of goodwill he had thought was between them? If he had, he thought somewhat bitterly, he would never know. It could have been any innocuous comment, or, for that matter, it could have been something he had _not_ said that Loki had seen fit to sulk over.

It was unfair that he should be forced to guess and second guess every word he said like this. He delivered a kick to the door which did nothing to alleviate his anger and succeeded only in making his toe throb with pain.

But there were few things that could erode at Thor’s inherent noble stubbornness, not even his own frustration, and he had made a decision – without really thinking, to be sure, but it was a decision nonetheless. It didn’t matter if Loki was angry with him. Perhaps, if he handled this properly, it would even solve some of that.

At least this had accomplished something, anger blotting out some of his nervousness, and he made his way to his father’s chambers with a lengthened stride.

Odin was feeding old table scraps to Huginn and Muninn when Thor walked in. The ravens plucked bits of meat and bread from his fingers with surprising care; had anyone else tried this, their hands would have been pecked bloody within moments. They fixated Thor with their black-eyed stares, and it was not the stare of simple animals. There was always an undeniable _presence_ to their twin gazes, something far too intelligent, that always made Thor the slightest bit uneasy.

He tried to ignore them. “Father.” His mouth had gone dry. He was unaccustomed to admitting guilt in the first place, more inclined to argue justifications or to let Loki talk their way out of trouble. “I would speak with you about— May I speak with you?”

Odin nodded. Thor took a deep breath and went on, “It’s about what happened while I was on Midgard—”

“You’re not in trouble; you know that.” He paused, stroking the back of his hand down Muninn’s sleek folded wings. “And before you go on, I have something to say on that topic. You won’t be seeing your brother for some time.”

“I’d actually… this is sort of about Loki—”

Odin went on as though he had not spoken, “There was an attempt to break into my private library last night. Naturally, I suspected Loki, and when I asked him, he freely admitted it. That makes not one but two acts of direct defiance – and I have no choice but to enforce a stricter punishment. He won’t be leaving his room until… I see fit. I’m sorry. I know how you enjoy his company.”

There were about a hundred things that could have been the breaking point. That Loki had taken the blame himself and left Thor’s name out of his recount of the trespass. That the locked door was their father’s doing. That it was one unjust punishment compiled upon another. But what brought the words suddenly spilling from Thor’s mouth was that apology, that not only was he being passed over by justice for the very real part he’d played in all of this, but he was being treated as the victim.

“But it was all _my_ fault!” he said in a wild rush, “ _I’m_ the one who insisted we go to Midgard in the first place! _I’m_ the one who started the fight and got us thrown in the dungeon. And last night, it was my idea to break into the library – Loki didn’t even want to, he just followed me because he knew it was dangerous and apparently he doesn’t trust me to take care of myself, and—actually I was the one who set off the trap, too, so I _would_ have ended up hurting myself, to be fair, but anyone could have made that mistake, and you can’t punish Loki for this because it wasn’t really his fault, it was _mine_ , and this is _unfair_ and it’s making him _hate_ me. Please.”

And now that he’d actually said it, a strange sort of calm descended over him. It was all bad, all very bad, and he would probably be executed for it now that he thought of it – but at the same time it was a relief to have said it, to have exhaled some of the guilt and confusion and frustration with the words, to have it out there and away from him now. His father could do what he wanted now, but at least it was his decision and Thor no longer had to worry about what little control he’d had over the matter.

Odin had not so much as blinked. “I know,” he said.

A moment’s silence.

“What?”

“I know you are at fault,” Odin said. “Your mother knows, Loki knows, Heimdall knows – the whole of Asgard knows. You were the only one who believed yourself blameless in the matter.”

Thor frowned, trying to process exactly what he was hearing and failing entirely. “What?” he said again.

His father sighed, and then spoke slowly, “A king must always take responsibility for his actions, Thor. It was a lesson you needed to learn. I knew you would not allow your brother to suffer at your expense – if nothing else, your love for him will always trump your blockheaded pride.”

Thor considered making some protest to this, but thought better of it. “So…” He was still struggling with the whole thing. “So this was all just some sort of a test?”

“ _Lesson_ ,” Odin said firmly.

It seemed like more of a test.

“What if I had kept quiet?” asked Thor. He’d considered it for long enough –even convinced himself at one point that he was free of blame.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Yes, but—”

“You wouldn’t,” Odin repeated, smiling a bit. “I expected it would take some time, but I was right in the end.”

It made sense – sort of, if one didn’t think about it for too long. Thor spent another moment trying to untangle the meaning of all of this before giving up and moving on to more important matters. “Am I to be confined to my room as well, then?” he asked.

“Have you learned something today?”

“Yes.” _I think._

“Then I don’t think further punishment will be necessary,” Odin said, getting to his feet and going to stand beside Thor. Huginn and Munnin looked after him with a distinct, greedy hunger, not yet ready for their meal to be over. “Do you?”

It felt like another test. Thor looked around the room as if hoping the answer would present itself to him from one of the golden walls. Finding none, he remained silent. Odin touched his shoulder with another smile.

“Go,” he said. “Tell your brother that he’s free to leave his room as well. I’ll have his books returned to him today.”

**:::**

“So he punished _me_ … to teach _you_ a lesson?”

Thor nodded. He’d decided not to think about it, and when he didn’t think about it he found that it explained everything, and it was as if some sort of light had broken through the confusion that clouded his mind these past days. The whole thing was really very brilliant, he was sure, and maybe he would understand the wisdom properly some day when he was older. For now he just smiled.

“That’s…” Loki paused. “That is _insane_! That makes no sense!”

It was not the reaction Thor had expected. “What?”

“Well, why couldn’t he just have said—” Putting on his best impression of Odin’s deep voice, “‘Thor, what you did was wrong and I’d like you to sit in your room and think about it until you come to the same conclusion’?”

“I don’t know,” Thor said, utterly lost at the sudden wildness that seemed to have taken over his brother. “He is unknowably wise, after all. We’re not supposed to—”

“Why would he ever think this was acceptable? At best it’s unfair; at worst it shows _clear_ favoritism and encourages me to show less personal responsibility in the future to avoid punishment! How in the Nine Realms did our forefathers raise him? What sort of twisted upbringing did he _have_?”

“Maybe it was a bit much,” Thor admitted.

“ _A bit much?!_ ”

Thor shrugged.

There was a moment’s silence during which it seemed that Loki may actually implode from the force of his rage. Thor looked him over, worried, until his trembling had subsided and some of the fire had died from his eyes.

“There is still the matter of the beast that the Warriors Three have engaged in combat,” Thor said at last. “Perhaps we can help them conclude the matter before it drives them to madness completely.”

“Madness,” Loki muttered. There was that far-away look in his eyes again, the one that meant he was sinking deeper into his own thoughts. The one that meant there was another bout of sulking on the horizon. And then suddenly it cleared, though perhaps not completely, and he gave a somewhat tired smile. “Yes, perhaps we could. Lead the way.”

Thor was only too happy to, not that the issue had been, if not resolved, then at least set aside for another day. They set off together, and Thor thought that for the moment all was well. There was, after all, no one he would rather get into trouble with.

**Author's Note:**

> Was aiming for a less cracky ending, but, well, I can never take Odin's bad parenting very seriously. Oops.
> 
> I had to tweak the timelines a bit to make the immortal timeline match up with earth timelines, and it’s still pretty butchered. (A chance to write a bit of historic!fic shall never be passed up. Props to anyone who can identify the vague shadowy prisoner in the first scene.)


End file.
